


The House That Dirt Built

by Archedes



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Talon, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-24 13:14:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8373553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archedes/pseuds/Archedes
Summary: Jesse gets the brunt of Genji’s hatred, but it doesn’t belong to him. Never has. He’s a looking glass for Genji to peer through and find wanting.





	

**Author's Note:**

> for day 2 of mcgenji week - "au". dedicated to zi & terry from a convo we had like a month ago lmao. thanx as always to [jin](http://archiveofourown.org/users/antagonists) for beta reading.

Smell of blood and burning wood. Jesse’s been palming his eye for the past ten minutes because a stray piece of soot got into it. He can barely hear the orders coming over the comm; everything is crackling, splintering fire and ruin as the building slowly begins to collapse in on itself. It seems to sigh, as if morbidly relieved to finally rest after standing tall for hundreds of years. A one-time refuge to feudal lords and shoguns and governors and, finally, yakuza—the last tenets the castle would ever know.

In the midst of it, standing still and unaffected by the chaos simmering around him, is Genji Shimada. At his feet is a man Jesse only knows from pictures, and even then his face is so horribly mutilated that there would be no recognizing him now. Hanzo Shimada has been dead for a good while. Not because Genji had willed it, but because the agony had finally sapped the last of his strength and granted him the death Genji had so desired to draw out.

Every so often, the vents on Genji’s shoulders and back hiss and click as they struggle to regulate his temperate amidst the fire. All sleek black metal and gentle, pulsing green lights. Jesse knows he doesn’t breathe anymore, but he’s unnerved anyway by how perfectly still Genji can stand. His body is so finely tuned that there are no gratuitous movements; everything, from a head tilt down to the slightest twitch of a finger, only happens because Genji intends it.

He had worked on Shimada for a good hour before the man had broken down in pained, inelegant sobs. Jesse can’t say he bears any love for his older brothers, but he doesn’t know if he would have the stomach for what Genji’s done.

Jesse prefers it quick and dirty. Genji likes to make them scream.

“ _Report_ ,” Reaper’s voice crackles in his ear, bored. He doesn’t care about Genji’s grudge or Talon’s obligations to him. Jesse can’t say he cares much either.

“All done,” Jesse answers, eyeing the unmoving, silent figure before him. “Just sayin’ our goodbyes.”

Silence. It goes on for nearly ten minutes; Jesse’s eyes are on Genji all the while. When Reaper comes back, he’s with his just-passing-this-along voice. “ _Stay close. There’s no telling what he’ll do now. They want him back in one piece and I told them you were the man to do it. Don’t fuck up._ _And McCree—_ ” A pause. Widowmaker’s most likely nearby, and that has Reaper choosing his words carefully. Talon doesn’t own them, and while their professional relationship is mutually beneficial, it remains dangerously fragile. “ _Keep your head,_ ” is what he decides on. Jesse gets the message: _if it comes down to it, kill him before he can kill you_.

Some days, Jesse feels like he’s never left Blackwatch at all. “Got it.”

Ahead of them, an ornate tapestry goes up in flames, orange tongues stretching high, climbing up the embroidered mountains to reach the wooden rafters above. All told, Jesse doesn’t like his chances much. Genji’s synthetic body is all streamlined and utilitarian. Barely anything human left. He’s closer to a finely tuned weapon than a man, and though his back is turned Jesse knows Genji is keeping very close tabs on him.

“What d’you reckon you’re gonna do now?” Jesse asks after a moment, his tone carefully controlled. Sweat is collecting on the back of his neck; they’ve been standing here for nearly an hour. Genji hasn’t taken his eyes off his brother once.

He receives no answer, so he presses. “You got what you wanted, right? Your revenge. What now?”

“I don’t understand the question.” Genji’s voice is sharp, inhuman, cutting through the dying sounds of the castle.

“You gonna stay on with Talon?” Genji’s stance shifts almost imperceptibly. A loaded question, sure, but Jesse isn’t Talon. He couldn’t care less either way.

“What else is there?” Genji asks thickly, and in one fluid motion he turns around, giving Jesse only a moment to react before stalking past him.

Jesse gives Hanzo Shimada a final once-over, _tsk_ ing. Talon would have liked this one alive, but they value Genji too much to ask that of him. More’s the pity, Jesse supposes, and he follows his agent outside into the cool night air.

Hanamura is silent, and that’s all the evidence Jesse needs to know that Talon has finally solidified its hold on the city. There are no sirens or emergency services coming to save the Shimada empire or its castle. Hanamura is a fickle den of white-collar criminals, and Talon can be a generous, persuasive benefactor.

Genji lingers by the front gates, the glow of the fire reflecting eerily off the carbon fiber lining his jaw. Perhaps the only human thing left of him is his face, though the flesh is all gray and inorganic. Even his eyes are implants, and they gleam a cold, unfeeling silver. “Why are you with Talon?” Genji asks, his lips curling as he forms the words. “ _You_. Not your…companion. His goals are not yours, whatever they may be. That much I know to be true.”

Jesse thumbs his nose and smiles, noticing how briefly Genji’s eyes flick to regard him before returning to the castle. “I s’pose I’m just along for the ride. I ain’t got the taste for honest living, and I reckon it would bore me anyhow.”

“A true mercenary,” Genji remarks blandly. “No morals, no aspirations, no purpose beyond your paycheck. I see.”

“I don’t remember seein’ any morals back there. You find any inside your brother when you gutted him like a fish?” Part of him knows that antagonizing Genji—especially now, when he is so emotionally unstable—is a bad idea. Another, bigger part of him doesn’t give a shit. If Genji wants to read him, well. Jesse can read right back.

Genji actually _smiles_ , but it’s all teeth, and he turns his head to fix his unsettling eyes on Jesse. “No. I did not.”

“You find any sort of relief there?” Hanzo knew why he was dying and who was killing him. Any remorse he might have felt went to the grave with him.

Genji’s smile vanishes. “No.”

“You thought it would make you feel better. Like all this shit had a point and would come out to mean somethin’ in the end.” Jesse is feeling sympathetic. He remembers that anger, too, though his fire has long since gone out. In a way, he supposes he misses feeling so strongly about something. All he’s got now is his gun and his old commander.

“I wish I could kill him again.” There’s no real conviction behind Genji’s words, and for the first time since Jesse’s known him, he looks tired and maybe even a little lost. All that anger, and now he doesn’t even have anyone to focus it on.

“That’s the thing about revenge, sweetheart. You only get to enjoy it once.”

Genji watches him for a few minutes, his expression inscrutable. Predatory, even, though that’s par for the course when it comes to him. Rare are the days when Jesse doesn’t feel like the man’s sizing him up, mentally putting Jesse’s quick draw against his own enhanced reflexes. “Are you and I friends, Jesse McCree?” he asks next, switching gears faster than Jesse can follow.

He doesn’t know where Genji is going with this, and he’s no sucker when it comes to gauging people. Might be Genji doesn’t know either. “Truth be told, I’m not sure if I can be friends with someone who scares the shit out of me as much as you do.” Jesse is only half-joking. Better not to push his luck, considering how little he likes his chances against someone like Genji Shimada.

There is nothing graceful about the way Genji shifts from stillness to motion. It is abrupt and unnerving, and Jesse doubts he gives a shit about trying to make his movements more human. When Genji approaches him, he is slow and deliberate, allowing Jesse the opportunity to move. Or perhaps the illusion of the opportunity to move. He comes much too close, fisting his hand in the kerchief around Jesse’s neck. His prosthetic hand reflexively comes up to grip Genji’s wrist, and Genji allows it. From here, Jesse can see every sinewy fiber that makes up Genji’s face, whispers of something once-human but now grotesquely twisted. His body hums, so quiet that Jesse never noticed it until now.

“What are you afraid of?” Genji’s voice is low, ugly. “Not dying, I think. I’ve seen you. The way you throw yourself into firefights. Reckless. At first, I thought you were confident that your friend would have your back. But you do it even when he is not around.”

“I don’t think I’d much mind dying, so long as you’re not the one doin’ the killing.” Another joke. Genji ignores it.

“Then _what_ are you afraid of?” Genji asks again, impatient. He presses in closer, and at some point Jesse finds himself backed into a wall.

Jesse can’t say he’s afraid, not really, but Genji puts him on edge all the same. Not just now, but damn near every time they work together. “I guess,” Jesse starts, hedging a little, “I guess you’re a real testament to how far a man can fall. How many little pieces he can be broken into. Can’t pretend that doesn’t shake me a bit.”

“You pity me?”

“Darlin’, I got Reaper. What do you got, now that your brother’s gone? What reason do you have for livin’ another day?”

Genji scoffs. With his free hand, he slips Peacekeeper out of its holster and lets it fall to the ground. Jesse knows when he’s being fucked with. The mouse and the cat. “You—” His hand—hard metal—slides up Jesse’s thigh, to his chest where he pushes Jesse flush against the wall and holds him there, “—are a pathetic husk of a man. You care for nothing. Not even your own life.” Like before, there is no real conviction in the way he says it.

“Guess we’re the same, then.” Jesse smiles real sweet once he’s caught his breath. Genji narrows his eyes, and the next thing Jesse feels is a thigh sliding between his legs. “Easy, now.”

“Am I hurting you?” Genji asks dryly. “I wouldn’t know.”

“Don’t you worry about me none.” He takes Genji’s hips in his hands, testing, though judging by the look on his face Jesse wonders if he’s even noticed. Genji has toyed with him like this before, with an undercurrent of desperation that he tries to conceal with raw aggression. “They really skimped on the sensory input, huh?”

“A superfluous system.” The way Genji says it gives Jesse the idea that the words aren’t his own.

“That’s just too bad.”

A hand traces up his side, fingers dipping in the gaps of his flex armor where his shirt has burned, plucking the fabric until it comes apart. He flinches from the cold touch on his skin before he can stop himself, and that brings the smile back to Genji’s face. “Tell me, McCree. Do you watch me so closely because you were ordered to or because you enjoy it?”

“Might be a little of both,” Jesse says agreeably, starting to like the feel of the knee between his thighs now that it’s warmed up from his body heat. His back is starting to ache a bit from how tightly Genji has him against the wall. All in all: not bad.

Genji’s lips are like ice as they ghost along his jawline, each point of contact light and brief as though he’s waiting for something. Jesse shifts against him. Genji hikes his leg just a little bit higher, but it’s enough to get a low groan out of him. Hearing himself like that is enough to put Jesse back on task. He puts his metal hand to Genji’s chest and pushes. A displeased sound—metallic, unpleasant—comes from Genji’s throat, but he allows the space between them. Jesse slips out from between him and the wall, snatching his gun off the ground in the process.

Then he straightens up and smiles. “Might be we ought’a continue this another time. We need to report back.”

Genji’s lip curls. “Is that an order?” Jesse may be his handler, but there exists no illusion between them about who is really in charge. And perhaps that is why Genji prefers him to the various Talon operatives who had been his handler before: Jesse might share the paycheck, but he certainly doesn’t share the ideology. He’s no more loyal to Talon than Genji is.

“A suggestion. A real friendly one.” Most times, Jesse is agreeable when Genji acts like this—openly amorous and openly hostile. But right now he’s too unstable. Wouldn’t be smart to spend any more time alone with him. _Keep your head_. Jesse’s got promises to keep.

“I’m not going to kill you,” Genji scoffs. “I have had enough for tonight.”

“All the same. You done what you came here to do. No sense in hangin’ around with old ghosts.”

“Squeamish, are you?” There’s a sneer dangling at the end of the question though it never quite reaches his face. The bait rolls off Jesse’s shoulders, and his smile—affable, charming to anyone that doesn’t know better—remains firmly in place.

“Guess so. Let’s get outta this shithole. All these flowers are makin’ my eyes water.” Despite his combative mood, Genji doesn’t argue any further. He eyes Jesse, considers him, weighs him, sizes him up. He probably knows that Jesse knows who he’s really talking about. Jesse gets the brunt of Genji’s hatred, but it doesn’t belong to him. Never has. He’s a looking glass for Genji to peer through and find wanting.

Genji doesn’t respond, instead turns sharply on his heels and walks off. Jesse figures he’s done talking for the evening, and that’s fine. He eases a cigar out of his back pocket, rolling it in his hands until it moderately resembles the shape it had before Jesse sat on it. When it’s lit, he breathes deep, and blows the smoke up into the sky along with all the rest.


End file.
